Desert Heat
by naughtykittekat
Summary: Sam. Dean. A long drive through the desert. WARNING: WINCEST. And if you don't know what PWP? means you probably should steer clear.


A/N 1: Hello, this popped into my head when I was supposed to working on a number of other stories and doing cleaning.... enjoy :)

A/N 2: **WINCEST**. Please hit your back button if you're offended. Also, **SEX** of the Male/Male persuasion, and it is not underage.

* * *

The Winchesters boys had been driving since sunrise. It was hot and the sun was just starting to slip into that twelve o'clock position. Dean wiggled in his seat and Sam glanced over, only to see Dean expertly pull his black tank top over his head, to watch the muscles in his brother's back and arms flex and move as a sweaty sheen took over where the fabric clung before.

Sam dragged his eyes away and started at the glittering oasis puddles ahead. If he just concentrated on them for the next three hours…maybe they would make it through the desert, make it though whatever he was feeling.

"Damn it, Sam. Why did we go this way?" Dean asked gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Why?"

Sam noticed the way Dean long fingers gripped the wheel twisting it ever so slightly. When he shrugged in response, he felt his arms pull away from the vinyl seat and winced at the sticky pain. "You wanted the quicker route."

Dean grunted all low and gravely, something that sounded like it should've been made in the dark of night twisted around another body. It made Sam uncomfortable, when his imagination started and he was confronted with an onslaught of delectable images:

_Dean winking at him from between his legs._

_Sam's hand curled tight around Dean's dick and the face… oh, God. That face was sinful. The whole damn thing was sinful, but that face it was another level of Hell. It was all things good on God's green earth and the promise of wickedness wrapped into half-lidded eyes, tight pink lips and a clenched jaw. It was unforgettable._

_Fingers woven together against a ratty hotel pillow, squeezing harder and harder until that moment when they just fall limp lazily twined around each other… _

"Sam?" Dean asked again. "Earth to Sam." He reached in front of Sam's face and snapped his fingers.

"Hmm?" Sam grumbled out a little bewildered, he stared straight ahead eyes focused on the little yellow dashed line this time.

"Dude, where did you go?" Dean asked as his eyes scanned the road ahead looking for any kind of gas station.

"Wha- Ah, just bored," Sam replied trying to adjust his jeans as invisibly as possible.

"Oh." Dean said as pulled to the shoulder of the road. "You see if there's anymore water in the back? I gotta take a leak."

"Mmmhmm. Yeah," Sam managed as he watched Dean lift himself out of the dusty Impala, his hands busy in his front popping buckle and buttons, undoing the zipper. Sam thought about how he'd use his teeth to… But he shook his head to keep from that line of thought, hair falling in his face and groaned. It was deep and throaty from someone who knew he was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. But, he got out of the car and tried for some semblance of whatever they were calling normalcy these days.

***

Dean only walked a little ways out, the sun beat down on his skin making him wish he could've done this all from what little shade the impala had been offering. Stopping at a chest-height cactus, he turned toward the car to watch Sam as he rummaged around the back.

Since he was twenty-one, he told himself that he only watched Sam out of duty, for protection. But it was times like these, in which he laughed at himself and his thin rational for the excuse it was. Times when there was abso-fucking-lutely nothing watching them, following them, when they were in the middle of desert and Dean had no reason to keep an eye on Sam other than whatever this was that he was feeling. He didn't want to label it, labelling it made it real and he needed to drive the next two hours and fifty-five minutes to the nearest town in the same car as Sam.

His breath hitched and his aim faltered as he watched Sam's long lean form stretch skyward and pull off his white t-shirt, exposing all that marred and tan flesh, watched the sinew in his back and arms stretch into deep taut lines. His mouth watered as he thought about tracing the 'v' shape of Sam's hip with his tongue. He thought about so many things all at the same time:

_Sam smirking around his finger when he steels whip cream from Dean's pie at the diner, the soft slurp echoing in his ears over and over again, a slow symphony from Hell._

_His tongue laving at the Sam's dusky brown nipple, feeling it harden from the simplest touch. God, it felt like innocence shattering, like feeling the sun on his face only to realise, it was another kind of fire and those flames were swallowing his soul. _

_Pinning Sam to the wall, hands fisted together above their heads, their cocks stuck between them leaking, looking Sam's eyes so like his own waiting and watching. Always watching._

Dean shook his head hard and looked away from the road. Carefully, he started to do up the front of his pants as he walked back to the car. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he mumbled to himself and looked up at the sky, hand stilling on his open button. Someone was punishing him someone had to be.

Sam was being swallowed by the impala in his search for water. He was bent over the trunk ass up in the air, jeans pulled tight across his backside as he grabbed for a single bottle of water that rolled all the way to the back of the trunk. His back curved as he stretched for it. Dean was sure he'd been returned to Hell, a special level just for one Dean Winchester. His hazel eyes followed every move Sam made as he pushed out of the trunk and stood upright, "Did you say something?"

"Yeah, It's fucking hot out here." Dean covered gruffly, not that Sam had seen the look of unadulterated lust etched on his face. He thought about the cold shower that he was going to take in a few short hours, thought about how hot it was still going to be until then. "I'm strippin'." He sat on the edge of the trunk, took off his boots and socks, and threw them in the trunk. No one said that Dean didn't jump into things, if he was in Hell and this was a game, he was facing the fucker head on.

Sam gave him a funny look. "Stripping?" he asked as Dean stood and worked the front of his pants again. Dean had to look away as he wiggled them over his hips and down his thighs into a pool in the dusty red earth.

"Yeah, like when we were little," he said as picked his pants up and threw them next to his boots. He put a hand on the top of the trunk and feigned a small smirk at Sam; he was only wearing a pair of all black boxer briefs now. "It's already cooler man. "

His eyes held the question he didn't want to ask. Because he knew that if Sam joined him, there was no turning back. No being just brothers, if Sam started stripping too, Dean wouldn't be able to just sit next to his brother, he wouldn't be strong enough to keep the façade up for that long under these circumstances. There were no bathrooms to lock himself in, no errands to go out and run quick. It was Sam and Dean in the car with no room to move.

***

Sam stared for a long moment weighing his decision. He wouldn't be able to hide; there was no return if something happened. But, he was still striving for that normalcy. So, he pulled the belt out of the buckle, popped the button and let his pants fall to the ground. They joined Dean's things in the trunk with his shoes.

Dean shut the trunk with a slam that held finality. It told of things to come. And as Sam watched the dust settle around them he couldn't figure out if that was the best or worse decision of his life, because it clearly felt life changing.

For ten long minutes, Sam looked no where other than the road. He didn't even complain when Dean started singing Freebird with his Lynyrd Skynyrd tape. It was taking all his willpower to will the thoughts away and the hardness he felt growing against his leg, just from being in such close proximity to such a naked Dean. Thank goodness, that he was wearing regular boxers; at least for now they were still roomy.

Dean leaned across the car seat to open the glove box and grab another cassette. His arm ghosted over Sam knobby knee and it was as if an electrical current zapped through the two of them. It made Dean veer off the road as he looked up at Sam wanting nothing more than to bury his face between his brother's legs and use his tongue to memorize every detail…

Abruptly, he corrected his posture; hands on the wheel at ten and two he looked ahead, got back on the road. He was too afraid to even glance to his right. To afraid of what he might find. Disgust? Love? Loathing?

"Can you pull over?" Sam asked roughly.

Dean looked over and he knew he shouldn't have as he pulled to side of the road again. There it was, tenting Sam's boxer's. He could see the dark pinkness of his cock peeking though opening in his boxers. Teasing him and he couldn't do it. Sam groaned again, that desperate sound that Dean would never tire of hearing. That's when his wall fell. It fell hard and fast and he was on top of Sam so quick that neither brother could tell what happened as their lips crashed together in a brutal assault. It was ten minutes more than either thought things would last.

Hands were everywhere. They ran over thighs digging into the hard flesh. They squeezed skin here and there and fingers roved around tangling in hair and hands. Bodies pressed against each other, already slicked with sweat from the sweltering desert landscape as they slid into a carnal rhythm.

Dean worked his hand down Sam's chest, thumbing over a nipple he whimpered softly, working its way further down. It slipped into the waistband of the boxers and fingers just skimmed Sam's hard cock, heat radiated of it. It felt like steel sheathed in velvet and Dean threw his head back only to hit his head on the roof. He panted softly, "Outside… Now."

Sam nodded with his eyes closed and reached a long arm into the back seat to grab a sleeping bag as Dean crawled off him and out the passenger door.

***

In the bright sunlight, the force of gravity and nature pulled them to the earth. Sam pushed Dean back into the dirt and Dean responded wrapping his legs around Sam's smaller waist. He grabbed him by the hair and pulled his face into his kissing him hungrily and biting his jaw as moved to his earlobe, "Fuck me," he whispered and licked the shell.

Sam moaned and leaned back ripping at the fabric that contained them both, pulling it down their legs. He wrapped his hand around Dean's dick just as he imagined. It was more than that though, the sensation of feeling it of it all being real. He almost came like a fifteen year-old at a rated R movie. But he wanted to feel Dean from the inside, wanted to be connected completely.

Sam spit on his hand and pressed a finger into his brother's most sensitive area. He worked the digit in slowly, revelling in the little mewls of pleasure his brother was making. He added another and felt Dean shudder around his fingers.

The whole damn thing was obscene. Two lovers laid out on the ground like a bad porno movie in the unforgiving light of day. No place to hide, the sleeping bag forgotten off to the side, the car still idling just beyond them with the door open, it was all so raw, desperate and exposed. So, cleansing, something that the world felt it was waiting on.

Dean knotted his fingers in the soft silky locks of Sam's brown hair and he groaned at the contact. He grabbed the hand that had been wrapped around his cock and pulled it to his lips. He sucked on every long finger almost in tandem with the thrusting of Sam's other fingers inside him.

Sam pulled away and he spit on his hand again, he coated his cock and then leaned over Dean and he kissed him hard as he thrust in. It was like the verging of mind and matter. It was explosive and Dean could forgive the quick entry because as he relaxed he felt Sam move in him, but then he panicked. "No, Sam we "

"Dean, shut up." Sam growled as he set a bruising pace and swallowed whatever Dean might've said in a kiss. Teeth clicked, lips were bitten, blood was spilled, tongues battled, but Sam was in control and that's what mattered to Dean. He needed to give up that control, to know that this wasn't his doing.

They didn't last long between the sun's heat and the long denied fire between them. Together they rode out some expert strokes on Sam's part as he hit that little bunch of nerves deep with in Dean with a precision aim.

When Dean came, Sam's name fell from his lips like a desperate prayer. It echoed through the rock walls around them and reverberated in their chests. And only when Sam's cry joined it did it sound like strange salvation and everything right in the world.

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A/N 3: Well? What did you think..?


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